


Chasing Forever

by unusuallyabigail



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: I'm Bad At Tagging, John gets reincarnated, M/M, Reincarnation, Soulmate AU, Soulmate AU where you stop aging at 18 until you meet your soulmate, serial killer alex, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 04:30:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14012223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unusuallyabigail/pseuds/unusuallyabigail
Summary: In a world where you stop aging at 18 until you meet your soulmate, Alexander Hamilton is determined to stay young forever. And he'll do anything to achieve his goal.





	Chasing Forever

Alexander grinned to himself as he disposed of the body of John Laurens, throwing the bag into a nearby septic tank, knowing the acidity would quickly dissolve all evidence, granting himself another guaranteed chance at immortality.

~   


See, there was an explanation for this. For all of this.

In a world where you stopped aging at 18 until you meet your soulmate, Alexander Hamilton had been alive since 1757. Sure, he had met his soulmate, multiple times in fact. But, determined to stay alive for as long as he wanted, he continuously murdered and hid the body of his soulmate so that he would never age.

But the bastard kept coming back.

John Laurens was a stubborn piece of shit, and somehow continuously got reincarnated as the same person each time, just with a different face.

And every damn time, Alexander would have to do the unspeakable in order to keep himself alive.

~   


Alexander Hamilton first was introduced to John Laurens in 1777 on a cold night during the famous Revolution. The man was broad and self-assured, leading the conversation with ease and making Alexander see stars with his quick intellect.

The two chatted and drank the night away, sharing ideas of abolitionism and freedom. The night ended in Laurens bed, a quick tumble in the sheets beginning their relationship that would last for years to come.

The two fought together, slept together, ate together; they were inseparable, save for when Laurens would go back to South Carolina periodically to visit his family. Alexander himself had no family left to visit, his mother dead and father gone, so he would stay behind with Washington and keep himself busy with his constant writing.

It wasn’t long until Alexander realized the small differences; his face was thinner, his joints more stiff, hair growing white early on from stress.

He was no longer 18 as he had been for the past few years.

The reason was obvious; the only person he had entirely shared his life with was John Laurens, the only person he had ever loved. It had to be him.

Alexander panicked. As soon as John had returned from his familial visit, Alexander played innocent, leading his lover to bed and seducing him with ease. After their activities were through and Laurens had fallen asleep, all but dead to the world around him, Alexander grabbed his knife and slit his soulmates throat.

~   


It took twenty-odd years for Laurens to come back. By then Alexander had married the influential Eliza Schuyler, and had started working for the newly established American government under George Washington. He was Secretary of Treasury, and took his job seriously, blessing his eternal youth as he worked late nights and early mornings. He was a devoted father and husband, despite his wife not being his soulmate-something unfortunately common in those days.   


But then there was a new worker in the government; an 18-year-old by the name of John Laurens with black hair and blue eyes, golden skin and lean muscles. He looked different from before, but there was no doubt in Alexander’s heart that this was his John; sure enough, when the two were introduced, Alexander found himself listening to the same words the original John would speak with the same passion lying underneath, the same claim that all slaves should be freed and allowed to live in peace and harmony.

It had to be his John.

It took a few months, but sure enough, Alexander saw a singular white hair in his head of black, early from his all-too-stressful living, and he knew what must be done.

That night, he invited John Laurens over as his wife was away with their children on a visit to their father. The two talked, and laughed, and drank, and they eventually fell into bed together, When all was said and done, Alexander did the same thing he had done all those years before in Valley Forge-he slit his lovers throat and buried the body in the woods behind his house.

~   


John Laurens wouldn’t return until nearly fifty years later, after Eliza had run off with her soulmates and took the children, after Washington had long since passed and presidents had governed, leaving John Tyler in charge. Hamilton was still working under him, but no longer Secretary of Treasury, now just another speech writer with too much to his name. 

John Laurens came in the form of a scrawny blonde assistant to the head speech writer, running into Alexander as he ran around gathering papers.

He had the same fire in his eye regardless of his new smaller size, and the same power in his voice when he introduced himself-John Laurens.

So Alexander began the now-familiar ritual, and coerced John Laurens into his bed, leading the man to sleep before slitting his throat and dumping the body in a nearby river.

~   


Alexander had long since become cold and distant, even to close friends, focusing solely on his work and the legacy he was going to leave behind if he ever died.

That was when a tall ginger with freckles approached him at a party he was ‘relaxing’ at in 1904 and asked him if he wanted to dance.

Letting go for the first time in perhaps decades, Alexander threw caution to the wind and danced with the stranger, swept away in firm hip movements and strong hands at his back. 

It wasn’t long until the two vanished into the night, drunken whispers accompanied by more drunken groping, and Alexander whispered between kisses that he never caught the others name.

John Laurens, the stranger said.

Alexander forced a smile to his face and continued his sweet kisses, down the man's neck then further down, until the other experienced blissed and fell asleep shortly afterwards. 

And Alexander did what he always did.

He slit the man’s throat and hid the body.

~   


Time and time went on, John Laurens came and went, and Alexander realized he had to become more careful with his work. Forensics were getting better, he was becoming  more famous, and if he were to get caught it would simply destroy him.

So he kept a plan for the next time his Laurens came around to haunt him.

~   


When John Laurens next came around, it was in the 1970s, time of sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

The gay scene had become all the more popular over the years, and Alexander was in a nightclub sporting leather pants when a gorgeous dark skinned man with closely shaved hair asked him if he came with anybody. By now he was wary of strangers, and played coy, saying he may have.

But the man was persistent, and inviting, and it wasn't long before he was buying Alexander drinks and they were swapping stories of days past. Alexander never shared his full name, nor his true age, sticking with the fact that he had been 18 for some time now. The other man was unbothered, saying he had been 18 for a few years, but was looking for his soulmate everywhere he could.

Alexander divulged that he never wanted to find his soulmate; that he wanted to stay young forever, to keep doing what had to be done.

The man blinked, laughed, and said he sincerely hoped he wasn’t Alexander's soulmate, for his own sake.

Alexander smiled and leaned forward, asking for the man's name.

John Laurens.

He didn’t even take the man home this time, merely telling him he’d blow him in the alley if he wanted, and when the man followed him he slit his throat. He left the body there to be found the next day.

~

He almost got caught that time. It taught him he needed to be more careful, more diligent. He planned places to hide, planned places to hide bodies, and planned places to hide his knife he had kept for since the Revolution.

He was ready.

~   


Then, came 2018. He was no longer in the White House, having decided he’d rather die than work for Trump, and was now working for a small newspaper, writing argumentative articles on anything he could think of. It was fairly unknown but well-loved for those who did know it, and he was happy there. 

Until he ran out to get coffee and met the barista named John Laurens.

He whispered are you _fucking_  kidding me under his breath, are you _fucking_ serious. The barista, none the wiser, handed him his coffee and flirted shamelessly, writing a rather witty pickup line on the cup.

This John Laurens was Puerto Rican, with long curly hair and bright eyes, freckles littering his caramel skin. Not for the first time, Alexander found himself mourning that he would have to lay waste to another beautiful face, knowing that he was the one. 

But he did what he always did, inviting the barista back to his place after he got off work. John accepted, and the two went on their separate ways until later that night, when mid-kiss Alexander pulled out his knife and slit the man’s throat.

~   


So here he was now, standing by a septic tank, stretching out his back which ached after carrying around the slightly larger man, proud of his work.

He turned, only to come face to face with a police officer. 

_Shit_.

The officer asked what he was doing and Alexander lied through his teeth, claiming he was taking a late walk when his back started acting up so he stopped to stretch.

The police officer let him pass with only a suspicious glance.

He went home.

~   


Later that week, Alexander was called in for questioning. He was shown a picture of John Laurens, was asked if he had ever seen this man before. He lied, and said no. Lying. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

He went through the process of being a murder suspect, serving a week of time before they had to let him go due to lack of evidence. 

Alexander went on his merry way, promising himself he’d never kill again, just like he had time and time again. 

That is, until the next John Laurens rolled around and he got desperate once more.

But until then?   


Alexander Hamilton was a lot of things, but a cold-blooded killer was not one of them.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

~

Maybe one day, he’d allow himself to fall in love. Maybe one day, he’d allow himself to live with his Laurens, aging together and living peacefully, sharing meals and beds and everything in between.

Maybe someday.

But for now?

Alexander will keep doing what he always has done.

Chasing forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I love serial killer AUs, and soulmate AUs, so this fic was so much fun for me to write.


End file.
